Mark, carrying a backpack filled with food, held a box of instant noodles in his left hand and tightly gripped his katana in his right hand. He started running straight towards his apartment building from a distance of 100 meters, then 50 meters, and finally, just 10 meters away.
This time, Mark didn't take a detour and made a beeline for his apartment building at top speed. Along the way, he efficiently dealt with another zombie by swiftly decapitating it with his katana. There were no unexpected surprises this time.
Mark quickly ascended the stairs, racing up to the 6th floor. He retrieved his keys, opened the door, entered his apartment, locked the door, and secured it. He performed this sequence of actions swiftly.
Finally, Mark could catch his breath and felt a sense of safety.
"Safe at last!" He leaned against the front door, catching his breath, his heart finally calming down. A faint smile crept onto his lips.
"Haha! I can't believe it, I really can't believe it."
"I never thought that I'd adapt so quickly in this apocalypse!"
This recent outing had bolstered Mark's confidence. He didn't know what the future held or how long he could endure, but for now, he felt the adrenaline rush.
Mark dumped the food he brought back on the sofa carelessly. He proceeded to change into a clean set of clothes as the ones he was wearing had become stained with a yellowish substance, which might have been zombie blood. Mark couldn't be sure.
Returning to the living room, he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
"Home is still the best place," he said to himself. While the thrill of battling zombies was exciting and invigorating, the comfort and safety of his home were equally enjoyable.
With the cigarette between his lips, Mark began to unpack and categorize the food neatly on the table. He also grabbed a couple of high-proof liquor bottles. He wasn't much of a drinker, but alcohol could help him sleep more soundly.
Mark had gone without a proper meal for several days, from the day he had a fever until today. So he indulged himself in one can of meat stew.
"Wow, it's delicious!" After several days of deprivation, the taste of meat was exquisite. He didn't overindulge, just enough to replenish the energy he had spent during his outing. The rest of the food was carefully stored away. At this point, food was the most precious commodity.
As the evening approached, Mark lifted the curtains to observe the surroundings. During this time, he noticed that others had seen his success in securing food from the convenience store and were trying to emulate him.
One after another, cautiously stepping out of their homes, these people sought sustenance. However, their endeavors didn't end well. Despite their efforts, they lacked Mark's combat skills. Four of them fell to the zombies outside, while only one middle-aged man managed to fend off a single zombie with a kitchen knife and return safely with some food from the store.
Nightfall was approaching, and there wouldn't be many people out and about. With the fading light of dusk making it difficult to see the situation on the street from the 6th floor, Mark decided to leave the window.
He didn't eat anything that night. He didn't want to waste food unless it was absolutely necessary. Going out was a life-or-death situation every time, and he preferred to avoid it if possible.
Around 8 PM, Mark suddenly heard what sounded like someone knocking on his door.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The sound was faint, and Mark, in the inner room, didn't pay much attention.
"Someone? Judging by the knocking rhythm, it shouldn't be a zombie."
Mark didn't respond immediately and instead walked quietly towards the door.
"It's probably someone from the building who has run out of food and is checking if there's anyone who can help," he reasoned.
This seemed like a common situation. Most people, except for recluses, wouldn't stockpile a lot of food in their homes. With the disaster starting a week ago, most would have run out of supplies.
Mark didn't bother to answer the knocking, thinking that the person would leave once they saw there was no one inside.
"Bang!" The sound from outside the door came again, and it seemed that the person had grown impatient.
"Bro, open the door. I mean no harm, and I know there's someone inside."
Mark still didn't respond, and he didn't even open the peephole to check.
"Bro, if you don't open the door, I'll call out. Don't blame me if the zombies come!"
"Damn it!" Hearing this threat, Mark became angry. He picked up his katana from the side and forcefully swung the door open.
Seeing the door open, a shadow quickly darted inside, shutting the door behind them. Just as Mark turned around, his katana was already pointed at the newcomer's throat.
"Brother, please don't be hasty. Let me explain!" The intruder was clearly startled and stammered as he begged for his life.
Mark extended a hand and switched on the hallway light, allowing dim light to illuminate the man's face. Mark got a good look at the intruder's appearance.
It was a man with short hair, a slightly chubby build, weighing around 200 pounds. He was of similar height to Mark but appeared younger, likely in his late twenties or early thirties.
Although the man had a harmless expression on his face, Mark remained cautious. He understood that anyone who ventured out alone in these dangerous times, especially at night, couldn't be taken lightly.
"What do you want?" Mark asked, not bothering to ask for the man's name as it wasn't important. What mattered was why the man had entered his apartment.
"Bro, can you please put down the sword? I really mean no harm," the man said, his voice trembling.
Mark held his katana, still not lowering it. He watched the man carefully.
"Take off your coat and turn around," Mark ordered, still keeping the katana aimed at him.
The man quickly complied, taking off his coat and tossing it aside. He then turned around in a complete circle.
Satisfied that the man wasn't carrying any weapons, Mark finally lowered his katana from the man's shoulder.
"Phew, brother, you scared me! I really have no malicious intent," the man sighed in relief and reiterated his peaceful intentions.
Mark turned and sat on the sofa, keeping his katana within arm's reach. He looked at the man and said, "Speak up. Why are you here?"
The man didn't dare to approach Mark and stood in place, trying to appear non-threatening. "Brother, I want to be with you."
"Get lost!" Mark cursed him without hesitation.
The man seemed to realize that his approach might have been too direct. He smacked his lips and attempted to rephrase his request. "What I mean is, can we team up and work together?"
Mark furrowed his brow and firmly refused, "I don't need it, you can leave."
The man grew anxious and pleaded, "Please, brother, reconsider. I can be of help, and with the current situation outside, having two people watching each other's backs is better than being alone."
"I told you, I don't need it!"
"Don't, brother, just think it over. I absolutely won't be a burden."
...
Not wanting to argue further with the man, Mark suddenly remembered something.